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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978756">Cast adrift</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xitrie/pseuds/Xitrie'>Xitrie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eventual Smut, Eventual relationship, Gen, Modern Boy in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Storm Coast (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:21:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,735</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978756</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xitrie/pseuds/Xitrie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Van Der Bergh is a Dutch journalism student just trying his hardest to get through his last semester, working hard on the perfect article for his exam. When sailing one day he loses his balance and almost drowns, until he awakens in an unfamiliar place, coughing up water from his near death experience. These gravel filled shores and rich mountains sure aren't Holland anymore..</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cassandra Penthaghast/Original Characters, Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Setting Sail</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>First dragon age fanfic.. I’m Dutch and I did proofread but if any mistakes slipped on by please tell me! I got a lot planned for this fic so let’s hope I can realize it-</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The days had been flying by, Tom had been rushing through his uni work with a vigor for weeks now. Writing such a detailed article was rather exhausting and he began to notice that the quality of his work deteriorating. He had barely been able to skype with his family, which he'd usually do every night. Sure they were mostly busy whenever they talked or the time zone difference annoying both sides of the call. But being able to hear his brother ramble on about whatever would warm the man's heart, he really cared for the kid. Well Sydney would try his best to convince Tom that him being almost 18 years old would surely make it that Tom no longer call him "kid". Old habits die hard though, Tom shook his head at himself as he let out a soft chuckle at the idea of his brother. He missed his family almost every day, ever since his mother passed he had no one live even remotely close by anymore. Nope, Tom would literally have to cross the ocean to even hold his father. Looking back he wished would've moved in with his father after their parents split up, his father wanting to return to his home country instead of staying in Holland. But alas he was a teen and the idea of moving to Canada and being somewhere with a completely different school system scared him at the time and losing his current friends and having to make new ones seemed even worse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But there he sat, lonely and living in a tiny country. He couldn’t complain that much though, it had brought him a lot. The Netherlands would always feel like home to him, his father’s side of the family originating from the Dutch who had settled in Canada. He had fond memories of whenever he visited Canada as a child. Since his father spoke only English, it was the main language in the house. Only really learning it when he came over to Canada and his Dutch speaking grandparents and his mother would try to teach him. He struggled with the certain letters at first. Which is hilarious to think back on now that it comes to him with such ease. His mother had sadly lost her parents early, so he had missed out on learning from that side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom got pulled from his thoughts as he stared at the document he was working on, text filling the page. Overwhelming him a bit, he really had not realized he had written up so much. Hoping that it wouldn’t come to bite him in the ass when having to proofread it. He was starting to grow bored, uninterested in what he was writing. Maybe it was time for a small break? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Journalism wasn’t the greatest thing for the man to study, finding himself unwilling to get “popular” stories, opting for more social ones. Ones that he felt were important to share with the world, but that didn’t put bread on the table yet. He was hoping that after he would finish his study and get some money the possibility of studying his passion would open up. Having an interest in psychology from when his parents had split up, Tom could only see him being a psychologist in the future, helping others get through their struggles as much as his psychologist had helped him at the time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked out the window, seeing that the sun was out. A rare occurrence in Spring, but not an unwelcome one as Tom stared at the trees swaying as the wind gently pushed them, perfect sailing weather; for Dutch standards anyway. With no wind how could you sail?</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Deciding that it was definitely time to catch some fresh air, he saved the document. He walked over to his bag that was currently resting on the floor. He emptied out the contents, mainly pulling school supplies and receipts out of the bag. He filled up a bottle of water, grabbed some snacks, a first aid kit and a mobile charger. Pausing, he packed a hoodie just in case if the weather turned on him. Zipping up the bag he practically ran to the door, grabbing his keys from the hanger, his tabby cat Boris running over to him. He stared at the coat rack for a moment, would he need a jacket? </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve already packed a hoodie, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the man thought, and besides it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Leaning down, Tom patted the cat’s head gently, rubbing small circles behind its ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back soon.” He said, speaking to it in English instead of his mother tongue. It had been his father’s cat, so in Tom’s mind the cat would feel comforted by English instead of Dutch, since it was what it was used to before his father moved. He would assume that his mother spoke to it in English as well. Smacking his lips together he blew the cat a kiss, shutting the door behind him with a loud thud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom couldn’t wait until summer came around, he enjoyed the beach far too much. He decided to bike, since he lived close enough and the breeze was pleasant enough. When he would ride on his bike he could let his mind drift off, thinking about the good things in his life as well as the bad ones. Not that he had much to complain about, well apart from his most recent breakup. But he had surprised himself by how little he cared when they had parted ways, both sharing the opinion that it wasn’t really going anywhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laura had told him that he needed to think about what he really wanted out of a relationship before starting one again, sure it made him think but mostly he hoped that he had not disappointed the woman by wasting her time, it was fun but it never really went anywhere. Finding himself missing the days he’d get butterflies for girls when he was younger, now only getting thrilled before inevitably finding them dull again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he was a single man once more, but he really didn’t see himself settle before he finished his journalism study anyway. Whistling a gentle tune, he found that he was biking along at a steady pace. The wind hitting him harder as he neared the dock, the welcoming smell of saltwater greeting him in that all too familiar way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Biking up to his boat, he chained up his bike to the nearby lamppost. The thick chains clinking together when he did, locking it with a simple twist of his key. Tom stared at his boat, stretching before getting to work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hopped in, the boat shaking in the water. The boat was unbalanced with only one person in it, but nothing Tom wasn’t used to already. He took the cover off the mast. Leaning over he untied the rope from the docks, pushing the boat away from the surface by using his leg. He waited until he was a proper distance away from the docks. Moving further and further away, he felt like it was time to start on the first sail, removing the elastics that held the sails taught around the mast itself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom’s hand gently caressed the fabric before pulling on the rope with care. Hoisting it up and tying it to the mast, both sails already picking up wind. He breathed in deeply, the sail curving familiarly. He loved being out on the lake, it had not always been a lake of course. But by Dutch water management it had been turned into one, the dyke cutting it off from the sea itself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seemed whether Tom was on a bike or in a boat, his mind would run wild. He liked it though, finding that instead of stressful things he’d think of his family and he would enjoy every second of it, no study nagging him, no fear of the future. Just him and his boat, combined with the lovely swooshes of the water beneath them. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the wind whistling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ginger began to wonder if his family ever missed this, sailing together that is. As a child, sailing together was like a mini vacation. Mom would prepare these little boxes of sandwiches and snacks, mostly consisting out of vegetables and salted crackers. They’d share stories for hours, talking until there was nothing left to talk about. Eating together, laughing together. Tom missed it, of course that was before the divorce and well that took a toll on all of them. Especially mom, he’d never seen someone turn bitter as quickly as his mother did. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Most likely because I look like dad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Tom thought. He was like identical to his old man, you could swear that he was a younger version of his pops. Which made it hard for his mother to look at him, only seeing the man that felt that their marriage was dying. Finding out that mom had cheated on him was rough, Tom remembered his father wailing whenever he thought the boys weren’t home. Keeping up appearances most of the time, not wanting to break in front of his sons.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sudden gush of the wind made the rope in Tom’s hand pull, rousing the man out of his deep train of thought. He gasped, pulling back as he regained control of the front sail. He knew it couldn’t flip over, but one hard pull of the wind and a big wave of water and he could still fall in. Sighing in relief, he focussed on the task at hand. He sailed for a few hours, enjoying the sunlight on his face combined with the cooling wind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was controlling the sailboat with ease at first, but concerned with the wind picking up so rapidly, Tom had decided it might be time to head back, using the rope to steer back. The waves hitting the boat as he was lifted from the water, before pushing its way through. He bit his lip nervously, he should’ve checked the weather report beforehand. Tom thought that by know he would be able to tell if the weather was suitable for sailing, but perhaps he was too confident.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because when the wind started pulling on his rope, hard, Tom felt himself tense. He was working his hardest to pull as hard as he could, the wind suddenly snapping the sail as he lost his balance. His arms flailing as the boat shook and the sail now completely free of tension, waved in the wind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was one of the last things Tom saw before he fell into the water backwards, his back hitting the water with a loud and harsh noise before a wave ran over his head. His boat drifting away as he tried his best to peddle, wanting - </span>
  <em>
    <span>needing</span>
  </em>
  <span> to stay afloat. The waves were proving to be far more difficult than planned, rushing over him as he felt himself swallow more water than he would’ve liked. Gasping for air he began to panic, his head being pushed down every time he swam up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt his heart beat loudly, before a wave hit the back of his head and his vision went began to fill with black spots. A strange green light shining brightly from beneath the surface, making Tom even more afraid of going under. He felt his legs being pulled, as he tried to sound out his mouth would fill up with the salty water. The water hitting his ears being the last noise he heard before green glow had completely pulled him under, Tom closed his eyes in fear of what was to come.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>———-</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom woke up to a firm set of hands shaking him, he breathed in deeply before he felt his lungs ache. Coughing up loudly, water falling from his lips as he desperately tried to breathe. He heard a faint british sounding voice talk in a deep tone, it felt distant. His ears ringing as he continued to cough up his lungs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Took in a lot of water, chief.” He heard the voice say, “Soon as he coughs it out he should be fine.” A low voice agreed with him, but Tom couldn’t make out what the voice said. Slowly becoming aware of his soaked clothes, he had washed up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well atleast I’m not dead, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. He felt a hand pat his back as his clothes made a wet sopping noise, noticing that he was subconsciously shaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stitches, lift ‘m up. We’ll bring him to camp, doesn’t seem like Venatori to me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stitches? Weird nickname but whatever floats your boat I guess.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt two arms on lift his body up, he was being held up, unable to walk without assistance. Tom felt completely drained, his body was ice cold to the touch, the water combined with the temperatures giving him the shivers. It had not been </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>cold when he left the house today, he tried to speak up but only a croak would come out. His throat practically screaming at him to stop his attempts. That in combination with his sight being blurry as well only confirmed Tom’s fear that it he could’ve died with the lack of oxygen he had suffered from. The man he assumed to be Stitches shook his head, in fairness all he saw was a blurry figure gently swaying. The man seemed to lean into him a bit, trying to catch Tom’s attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to scrape your throat raw, wait until your body has at least recovered a tad more than you are now, you only just opened your eyes for maker’s sake.” He hissed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom nodded as he felt his head spin, he was fading in and out of consciousness. He heard more voices, but he was still desperately trying to catch his breath before even attempting to take all that in. Every now and again his vision stabilize, when it did so he would be greeted with completely unfamiliar terrain. Large rocky hills, gravely coasts; </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah this definitely is not the home. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Had he washed up so far away? It couldn’t be, he would’ve been dead for sure. Not only that, he fell off in a lake so unless he had magically transported himself to the coast of perhaps one of the peninsulas it would’ve been impossible for him to even get as far. They walked for what seemed to be hours before they reached what almost seemed like a campsite, maybe Tom’s perspective of time was a bit warped. But walking a distance without proper air support took a toll on your body. He was sat down on a bedroll, a bit of canvas hanging above his head to keep shelter from the rain. Taking in deep breaths, Tom tried to focus on getting a steady rhythm. But before he could even attempt at breathing properly, he felt his stomach flip, turning towards a patch of grass rapidly before abruptly hurling. Feeling that supportive pat on his back making a comeback. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How much water did he inhale?” Another voice asked with a chuckle, Tom breathed out deeply and shakily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It wouldn’t be so funny if you were the one puking bile and water. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he’ll be done coughing soon, I should give him a health potion just in case he’s suffering from any injuries.” Stitches spoke, tapping Tom’s shoulder and handing him a red colored vial. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Health potion?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tom thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>are these people larpers or something? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Any how, he still took the bottle. Nodding at the man in understanding, examining the bottle ever so slightly before experimentally taking a sip, choking on the liquid as he tried to swallow it. It was gross, immediately triggering his gag reflex from earlier as he spat out the liquid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ey! You’re supposed to swallow it not spit it back out.” Stitches laughed, in any other circumstance Tom would’ve been able to laugh. Trying his hardest to swallow the rest of it down. Handing Stitches the vial, his vision began to slowly steady. There were about four people around him currently, as far as he could tell anyways. Stitches was the man who was helping him, he had a rich skin tone and had shaven hairstyle. A blonde man was lighting a campfire, while a woman was pacing around in the distance. On the other side of Tom sat another man, fully dressed in metal looking armor. </span>
  <em>
    <span>These got to be larpers, what kind of getup is this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you speak?” Spoke the man in the armor, Tom nodded quickly. Opening his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span><strong>Ja, bedankt voor het helpen</strong>.” (</span>
  </em>
  <em>Y</em>
  <em>es, thank you for your help)</em>
  <span> He spoke, his eyebrows knotting together as he desperately tried to speak English. The words not forming, he sat there, confused. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“<strong>Sorry, ik denk dat er iets mis is</strong>.” </span>
  </em>
  <em>(</em>
  <em>I’m sorry, something is clearly going wrong.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I definitely did not expect that.” The brown-haired man spoke, </span>
  <em>
    <span>well you’re not the only one!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyone make sense of this?” He asked the people who were around the - now lit - campfire. He received a grunt from the blonde and the others could only shake their heads in amusement. Tom looked sympathetically as he shifted his body more towards the fire, his damp clothes making his teeth chatter from the cold. “Can you understand us?” The man said, adding extra hand movements to his words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom nodded, of course he could. He was just wondering why he couldn’t speak English right now, the words were there but that was as far as he could come. It was like he what was being said, but his mouth was unable to move properly in order to produce the language itself. Like being drunk and trying desperately to say something you’ve been wanting to say for a hot minute, but your mouth just seems like an unwilling participant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Any updates?” Asked a low gravelly voice, honestly what came after was something Tom couldn’t have expected. A man, tall in stature made its way over to the campfire. He was.. grey? As Tom looked up he gasped as his eyes widened, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he wasn’t only grey! He had horns, what the fuck?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If it was a costume it sure as well was a convincing one, the grey man laughed as Tom’s panic set in. Clearly reading it off the ginger’s features, he was mortified and worse than that he was unable to hide it. The man was covered in scars and seemed intimidating to say the least, like he’d fought a great many of people. He just heard the brown-haired man beside him chuckle, saluting the grey man before leaning into Tom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never seen a Qunari before, ey?” He laughed, Tom could only shake his head as he felt himself retreat from what could be described as a slight threat to his well being.. “Not much, except for the fact that he doesn’t speak common.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That makes it a bit harder to know who he works for.” The ‘Qunari’ said, leaning down to Tom’s eye level. Tom swallowed, biting his lip as he felt heartbeat quicken. He was scary from a far but up close it was even worse, he had sharp features and the eyepatch - though adding some points on the cool scale only adding his grizzly appearance. “Where are you from?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom licked his lips, the salty water he had been drowning in until about fifteen minutes ago still running down his face. “</span>
  <strong><em>N-Nederland</em>? </strong>
  <em>
    <span><strong>Enkhuizen specifiek-</strong>“ (</span>
  </em>
  <em>The Netherlands? Enkhuizen specifically-) </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well shit, you weren’t kidding.” The man chuckled deeply, “Sounds almost like Ander. Are you from the Anderfels?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom shook his head again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what were these guys on about? </span>
  </em>
  <span>They clearly seemed conflicted by his lack of the ‘common tongue’ this was getting out of hand. He pointed to himself, “</span>
  <em>
    <span><strong>Ik</strong>.” </span>
  </em>
  <em>I</em>
  <em>, </em>
  <span>he began. “</span>
  <em>
    <span><strong>Zou graag naar huis toe willen- godverdomme hoe beeld je dat ook uit</strong>.” (</span>
  </em>
  <em>Would like to go home, goddammit how do you even explain that.) </em>
  <span>He mumbled to himself, frustrated beyond belief. He’d always hated a language barrier but this one was especially annoying, knowing the language but every fiber of his being not co-operating. He was shaking from both the cold and anger at this point, it hadn't been a great day so far.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well let’s leave him be for now, Krem go get him some dry clothes and put him near the fire for now.” The grey man said, “He looks like he’s freezing his ass off.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, chief” Krem said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>how wonderful, I’m learning everyone’s names from just being around them, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tom thought. At any right, he was happy to be alive. He held out his hand to the ‘chief’, looking at him expectantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em><span><strong>Bedankt, uh</strong>.” </span>(Thanks) </em>
  <span>He smiled, making a thumbs up with his other hand as he tried to get the ‘Qunari to shake his hand. Tom pointed at his chest, swallowing deeply. “Tom.” Once again pointing to himself, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I, Tom.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man laughed, shaking his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you Tom, I’m The Iron Bull.” He said, “You were lucky my chargers found you, you probably would have drowned without us.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That was a comforting thought.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom nodded, bowing at The Iron Bull to get his thanks across. Bull held up his hand, “That’s alright.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Krem returned with a set of clothes that seemed to be his own, a simple set of pants and a linen shirt. They seemed comfortable, Stitches followed with a piece of fur large enough to cover Tom’s shoulders. Once again Tom bowed to them, thanking them for their generosity as he made work of getting his wet shirt off, throwing it to the side with a loud wet noise. Krem looked at the item curiously, </span>
  <em>
    <span>had he never seen a striped tee before?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tom shot a glance at Krem and then at his clothing, giving the man a confused stare as he pulled the new shirt over his head. Making sure that his dog tags were still around his neck, he readjusted them. Then he took off his jeans, bothered by the cold wind that now hit his exposed legs. He hurriedly put on the fresh pair of pants, sighing comfortably as he shuffled as close as he could possibly get to the fire without hurting himself on the heat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Krem looked at the Iron Bull curiously, gesturing over to the clothes that lay on the ground. “I’ve never seen anythin’ like it chief, the shirt seems to have an insignia” He mumbled, “Dalish also said she found what appeared to be a bag of some sort, might want to check up on that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s leave the clothes be for now, odd as they might be, lead me to the bag.” Bull said, nodding at Krem as they walked to the other side of camp. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom had of course understood them fully, but being a prisoner in a larp camp, he’d decided it was probably best to play along. He wouldn’t want to ruin their immersion. It was odd though, he had many questions to ask the others but they’d have to wait. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Besides, asking someone stuff without them being able to understand you was a hard enough task as is. He stared up, the clouds were dark and it appeared to be getting close to sundown. Biting down on his lip, he let his mind wonder about the possibilities of getting home any time soon. It would appear tonight would be spend camping.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he was warm and not dead, to Tom that seemed good enough, <em>at least</em> for the moment.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Testing the waters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm just posting whenever i feel motivated, I probably won't post every day but who knows! I'm sick right now anyway!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was late, the sun had gone down what Tom would have guessed had been hours ago. The “Chargers” as the Iron Bull had explained were a collective of people, all sorts of folks coming together and working as a team. Tom had sat silent most of the night as they went about their business, talking about their next course of action considering this thing that they called the Inquisition </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> what to do with the washed up man that could not speak common.</span>
  <span>Tom was sitting next Grim, in between the laughter of the group the guy would sometimes look at Tom, nod with a grunt, and then continue on. Presumably checking up on Tom, which the whole group sort of did, keeping their eyes on him. Dalish was a woman whose face was covered in tattoos, they looked elegant and Tom had gestured to her with a thumbs up, pointing at her face and then his. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You like ‘m?” She asked him, her pitch a bit harsh to his ears. He nodded, smiling as she began radiating pride from the simple compliment. Her ears were pointed, almost like she was a character from Lord of the Rings or something like that. If these </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>larpers they would’ve probably stopped taking this all so serious by now, which frightened Tom. They seemed so natural, so real. Everything that was happening around them made sense, making Tom feel like the only one left out. The conversations were easy enough to follow, but as soon as business came up he found himself at a loss. Terms he had never heard of would casually be thrown around, places no one had ever told him about and it was a little unsettling. Finding himself laughing nervously as they made jokes about this “Ferelden piss poor weather.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure he was used to shitty weather, but he had heard no one ever call his country Ferelden. Krem had seemed to pick up on his discomfort, patting his shoulder, making Tom look at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You alright?” He asked, Tom shrugging as he tried to think if it was even worth his time to try to speak. He was exhausted from his near death experience and was honestly hoping that this was some elaborate prank or dream at this point. “Can we get this man some paper or somethin’, maybe he can write common.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now that was a good idea, rousing a bit from his dazed state as he nodded at the man beside him. Skinner had walked over, handing him a set of parchment with a scoff as she did so. Tom gave her a puzzled look, looking over at Krem for any reassurance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She does that, doesn’t take kindly to </span>
  <em>
    <span>shems.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He chuckled, patting Tom’s back again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shems? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now that was a word he’d never heard before, but being unable to ask he simply tried to remember before grabbing the quill that was handed to him and started writing a simple sentence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can you read this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He handed the paper to Krem, hoping that this might be the solution to their annoying language barrier. Krem looked at the paper for just a moment, reading the sentence carefully before shaking his head solemnly. “Sorry Tom, I can’t make any sense of this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom deflated, his hopeful smile turning into a frown as he gestured around the camp with a twirl of his finger. Krem nodded and asked every charger one by one to check out the paper Tom had written on. Making it known quickly that Tom’s English was different from their Common, even though it definitely sounded alike. This wasn’t earth anymore, it was an out there theory but with how everything felt so real yet so unfamiliar. How can you fall into a body of water and wake up on the shore of a strange world? Tom halted his train of thought, he was beginning to sound like a mad man. Maybe he died and this was just a really weird form of heaven- or hell for all he cared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do you get here?” Krem asked seeing the many wallow in his self-pity, handing him the piece of paper again. Looking at Krem with a puzzled look, Tom felt like the butt of a joke with the whole not being able to respond thing. “Draw it? Maybe?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grabbing the paper from Krem’s hand, he dipped the quill he had gotten earlier in the pot of ink again. Looking at his forearm, he stare at his tiny tattoo of a sailboat. Trying his best to copy the illustration over to the paper, adding a little man on it and a arrow pointing towards the water.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You fell from a boat?” Krem asked, Tom nodding as he made a second drawing of a figure underwater pulling on a man’s legs. He wasn’t an artist or anything but it seemed the stick figures got the point across. “Then you could pulled under?” Another nod in approval from Tom as he finally drew the man on the beach, laying on the shore. “And then Chief and Stitches found you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom sighed, putting down the paper as he stared into nothing. When hearing someone else describe it made it seem even weirder than before. Because now Krem knew of his situation and how weird it was, in all fairness he could’ve simply thought he had fallen of a boat near wherever they were. He felt tired out, the voices near him drowning out as he just stared at the fire. Sleep sounded more and more enticing but The Iron Bull clapped his hands with a loud thud, he was startled awake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Today was a good day boys, we kicked some Venatori ass.” He laughed, the Chargers howling at the Chief with loud clapping intertwined. Krem interrupted promptly laughing as he gave Tom’s back a forceful smack. “And we found a washed up straggler who we can’t even understand!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group bursted out in laughs as Tom sat there, rather bashful but smiling. The Chargers seemed like a good fun collective of folks, he was hoping they wouldn’t drop him when they found out he couldn’t do half of the things they were capable of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The group lifted up their pints as they drank in celebration, Dalish quickly pouring another and handing it to Tom. Who nodded in thanks and took a big swig of it, it tasted like beer but also way grosser. He liked the taste of beer every now and again, especially after a few of them. But this was such an attack on his already fragile system that he felt himself cough as he swallowed it down. Another forceful pat finding its way to his back as Grim was the one who tried his best to help the man who was seemingly choking on everything get his breathing in order. Grim stared at him and with a grunt he nodded and took a sip of his own drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull made his way over, ushering Krem out of the way as he sat down. Well throwing himself down would describe what he did more, his large heavy body hitting the floor with a loud muffled noise. He held up his pint and toasted with the straggler, gulping the drink down in one go before breathing out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You doing well?” Bull asked, looking Tom over inquisitively. Tom shrugged, how well was he supposed to be doing. He had not died, that added up to the pros for sure. For some reason his body hated taking in any liquid still, definitely a con. Oh and how could he forget, he literally couldn’t speak, a big con for </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I know you’re probably not back to your strengths yet, take a rest. I’ll want to talk to you tomorrow after you’ve woken up, yeah?” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tom swallowed hard, looking at the horned man as he gave him an affirmative nod back. Chief let out a sigh as Tom was now left to rest on his bedroll. He wasn’t a stranger to camping, but it was a lot different when you weren’t really properly prepared. He was still really cold, finding himself back to shivering as soon as he wasn’t close to the fire anymore. He buried himself in the bedroll, a few of the Chargers were still walking around. Dalish and Skinner had gotten watch, for whatever reason people here were rather afraid of getting attacked at night. It wasn’t that bad right? It </span>
  <em>
    <span>surely</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t a common problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind was racing, he was hoping that he would fall asleep and wake up in his own bed. Or at least in a modern hospital room. Tom kicked his legs a bit, a nervous habit he had picked up when he would lay in bed. Needing to do so to get even remotely comfortable. He didn’t dare to close his eyes yet, the soft light of the campfire illuminating his face. He listened to the distant voices of the Chargers. It seemed like a tight knit group, Tom could only hope that they wouldn’t throw him out just yet. They had wasted food and drink on him already, meaning that he was probably worthy of staying alive? They wouldn’t have wasted that on him if they were going to leave him to die, right? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t really helping him fall asleep anytime soon, what if he would wake up all alone? Iron Bull had asked him to come speak to him tomorrow, sure. But what if it had been a rouse? He sat up, breathing out deeply as he felt himself start to panic. His breathing unsteady as he pulled his knees up to his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand on his shoulder pulled him from his heavy breathing, looking at Grim with wide eyes as the man beside him had begun to sit up as well. He looked sympathetic, to the extend the man could muster. Tom opened his mouth, feeling stupid for trying to talk. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He whispered to the man, relieved that a few Dutch words would be able to come across since they weren’t different from English.  Grim hummed, squeezing the man’s shoulder with a firm hand before turning around and nestling himself back into his bedroll. It was a short moment, but for some reason he felt calmed by the man. Like Grim had just told him that everything was going to be fine without even using words. Tom let out a shaky breath, shaking his limps free from tension before shuffling back into his bedroll. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Closing his eyes as he felt himself drift off to slumber, being pulled into his dreams when he did. When he came to, he could swear he was in a strange plain. Surrounded by green light he had seen when he fell of his boat. He stood there by himself, feeling strangely present in what he assumed to be was a dream. Sadly not being home, he looked around to see where he was. When he looked down he saw that he was back in his regular clothes, feeling comforted by the familiar items. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Taking a step, the green light began to pulsate as the docks he had stepped into his boat appeared around him. His eyebrows knitted together, confusion on his face as he touched the lampost he had chained his bike to earlier that day. This wasn’t the same place though, it felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He sat down on the docks, his legs dangling over the water. Tom could swear he was getting a bit emotional by the sight of his boat, maybe it was an omen that he had passed. He shaked his head, moving a hand through his hair as he breathed out. Chuckling as he felt his eyes swelling up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop being such a baby</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He couldn’t help it though, he had most likely passed away. He would never see his family again, that was probably the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. His heart ached. His hand forming a fist as he hit the stone beneath his hand with a thud, surprised to find his hand hurting after doing so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You shouldn’t be here.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> A voice rang out, making Tom look up and around him. It sounded like a adult male voice, an unfamiliar accent came with it. He laughed softly, leaning back as he laid down on the street. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no shit.” An breathy laugh following the statement, just happy he was able to answer the voice properly. “I died, I’m pretty sure anyway.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You are very much alive, but misplaced.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“OK ominous voice, whatever you say.” He stretched, standing up as he shot a glance at his boat. Disappointed that what brought him joy and so many great memories was the thing that took him out. The feeling was quickly replaced as him falling into the water came to mind, the fear of being completely overwhelmed by the water hitting him. He turned away from the boat, putting his hands in his pockets as he walked back to the blank open space. It felt like someone was trying to reach out to him, but he was just out of reach. But there was a tug of some sort, something pulling at him. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He honestly just wanted to wake up, or have this vision - whatever it was - go blank. He stared back at the docks, sighing as he walked back again. Looking around him, waving his arms around. “Is this what you want? Stay around the docks huh?” He asked, annoyed. Tom walked closer to the docks, staring at the water. His reflection looking back at him, he stepped away from the boat. Continuing down the docks until he had reached a clear area. The urge to jump in was growing, figuring that it might continue the dream he was experiencing forward. Breathing out he stepped off the docks, his body hitting the water, keeping his eyes closed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he reopened his eyes and submerged he was back at where he had been earlier that day, his boat drifting away from him as the waves hit his body roughly. He felt that pull again, as if something was pulling him down by his legs. The urge to panic was rising but Tom reminded himself that it was a dream, he had already experienced this before. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> scary. Dunking his own head under the water he tried to open them, the salt water stinging his eyes. He couldn’t see anything more than the time before, the only thing visible being the green light that looked like the light he had seen when entering the dream. It was the same pulsating light, maybe even brighter since it was surrounded by a darkness. He closed his eyes, letting his body relax he floated around. Hoping that he would wake up soon. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He got pulled further and further down, almost feeling as if there were hands grabbing him from behind. They were pulling on him, grabbing onto every inch of his body to get him closer to the rift. When he finally reached it, the light grew larger before submerging him into it completely. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He shot up, rubbing his eyes as the sudden sunlight burned his eyes. How long had he slept? Turning around he hoped he was at home, but sadly he was still in the camp he had fallen asleep in last night. Grim was gone, presumably already up and working for the chargers. He stood up, patting the front of his pants clean from dust and dirt. Pulling away the tent drapery, he held out his hand in front of his face. Squinting in the mid-morning sun. Most people were gone, the embers from last night’s fire still burning in the middle of the camp. He did hear some yelling in the distance, walking past the tents as he saw the Chargers train together, The Iron Bull and Krem in the middle of a heavy sparring session while the others were egging them on. He walked towards the group, Krem being pushed to the ground in a finishing blow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You win this one chief, next time I’ll get you.” He laughed, wiping away some blood from his nose as Bull helped him up. Tom waved as he made eye contact with the Iron Bull, smiling as he gave Krem a thumbs up with his other hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Straggler, you’re up.” Bull barked, “Enjoyed your beauty sleep?” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tom knew it was already later than early morning, assuming that the group would wake up at sunrise. He breathed in deeply, new day, let’s try this talking this again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He said slowly, looking conflicted. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sleep?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It sounded as if Tom was questioning himself, his smile growing big as he was finally able to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, however childish it sounded. The Iron Bull laughed, patting his back harshly. Tom was launched forward as he desperately steadied himself from the impact. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good!” Bull grinned at Tom, “Guys take five.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Waving at the group, Bull gestured for Tom to follow him. They sat down on two logs, Bull leaning on his own knees. Tom pulled one of his knees up to his chest as he folded the other one underneath it. It felt like an interrogation, the ginger having to look up to even make eye-contact with Bull. While </span>
  <em>
    <span>sitting</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was truly a culture shock to a man who had previously would consider himself as tall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, we found your bag and we have a few questions.” Bull said, pulling out his backpack from behind the log. It felt completely out of place, especially with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>horned</span>
  </em>
  <span> man holding it. He pulled out his water bottle, ignoring it since it seemed that flasks were common around here. Only looking puzzled when pulling out the mobile charger and snacks, tossing the grey hoodie that was still in the bag to Tom. Tom put it on immediately, the feeling of the familiar fabric on his skin bringing him comfort. It felt like home. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Bull held the square charger in his hands, the wire still plugged into it. It was probably dead, his bag was waterproof but crossing dimensions or something must’ve deactivated it. “What’s this?” Bull asked, twirling the wire in between his fingers.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom held a finger to his mouth, how would he explain the object? </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>Elektriciteit?</em>
  </b>
  <span>” He said, making lightning noises with his mouth before laughing at himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This was stupid. </span>
  </em>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Electricity?” Bull asked, “Is it like a bomb? Does it contain gunpowder?” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tom’s eyes widened as he shook his head rapidly, holding up his hands as to get across that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a bomb. It wouldn’t even work on anything anymore, his phone was definitely gone from his pocket when he washed up at the shore. He held out his hand, waiting for Bull to put it in his hands. When he did, Tom pushed the button that would show u how full the charger was. The four green lights lighting up one by one, he showed Bull this. And then shrugged, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Is </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>alles</em>
  </b>
  <span>.” (</span>
  <em>
    <span>That's all)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t do anything?” Bull asked puzzled, Tom nodded at him. I mean it did do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> at one point, but for their current situation all it could do was light up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How fun!</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>“And this, this is food?” Holding up two packets of salted crackers, Tom nodding again. Grabbing one of the packets as he ripped the paper, snapping one of the crackers in half and handing it to Bull. Putting the other half into his mouth. Bull looked at the cracker and put it into his mouth, the Dutch assuming that they would have something similar over here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bull shrugged, “Just salty, well alright that’s the bag then.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tom smiled as he chomped down on the cracker, he usually had a packet for breakfast if he was in a rush, gladly eating them. Bull leaned forward again, putting the bag on the ground. “So you don’t speak common, that much is clear.” He sighed, “I’m not really one to leave people to die, but I’ll have to know what you’re capable off. I’ll gladly have you on board but what </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> you do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What can I do?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tom felt himself tense up, he couldn’t do anything that they would like probably. He could write, but if you’re unable to write in the language that most people speak it wasn’t the most helpful skill. Sailing was another one, but the Chargers did not seem to have a boat so that would be a no go as well. He was a pretty good cook, but to only keep him on board for that would be stupid. Tom sighed, it was probably for the best to admit defeat. His eyes finding Bull’s, Tom looked sad. Miserable being a better word to describe it. He shook his head, shrugging at Bull before gesturing writing by pretending to write on paper in midair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Writing?” Bull asked, “You are a scribe?” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A </span>
  <em>
    <span>scribe? I suppose being a journalist sort of comes close to that. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He said, smiling nervously at Bull. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, fight</span>
  </em>
  <span>..”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t fight?” Another nod from Tom, Bull hummed, thinking the whole thing over. “Are you a quick learner? Someone who takes action?” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tom thought the sentence over, was he? He wasn’t really a bystander, finding himself step in with uncomfortable public situations back home. But was that really someone who took action in </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> world? Sure he learned quickly, but would it be enough to keep up with the rest? He nodded, a determined look finding its way on his features, if he wasn’t confident in himself he would just have to fake it to get somewhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well then you’re on board, at least for now.” Bull laughed, his deep rumble pleasant to Tom’s ears. The straggler smiled, sitting up expectantly as he got Bull’s approval. He wouldn’t die out here by himself, that was something. “This afternoon you’ll hunt with Dalish, she’ll teach you a few things here, then I want you training with each of my chargers. See what you gravitate towards, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>works</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you. You seem determined, I’m sure we can make use of you in some way.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tom felt the urge to stand up and hug the Qunari, but that might be a bit too forward. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, Chief.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He grinned, saluting the man in front of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> do that.” Bull replied, cringing a bit at the man’s actions. It probably looked really stupid, so Tom wiped his hand on his shirt before holding out. Bull chuckled, taking the man’s hand in his and shaking it firmly. “Welcome to the Chargers Tom.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>Even if I can’t get out of this dream yet, at least I’ll have nice company.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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